


Keep Your Pants On

by keelywolfe



Series: by any other name [32]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Fluff, Humor, M/M, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Undertale Monsters on the Surface, papcest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 07:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16530275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Watching the ‘wacky skeleton’ antics is a time-honored tradition for Monsters. There are a few subtle differences now that they are on the surface, but hey, some things never change.





	Keep Your Pants On

**Author's Note:**

> I laughed so hard writing this. I love these boys.

* * *

It was only in the middle of the morning when Edge got an unexpected text from his brother. He picked up his phone curiously, reading the message with a frown. 

_you might want to come out here_

With wary interest, he did. His office was on the third floor which was generally reserved only for those who worked for the Embassy. Jeff would likely never know it, but Edge had been the one who requested special permissions attached to his clearance to allow for him to pass through security, in case of an emergency. 

Other Monsters were coming out of their offices, all wearing looks of curiosity. This did not bode well, what had his brother done…

The elevator door opened with a quiet ding and most of the third floor of the Embassy was treated to the sight of Stretch storming off it, dressed only in a long white sheet wrapped around him like a toga. 

Ah. 

The security guard barely glanced up from his magazine, “Hey, Stretch, nice sheet.”

“fuck off,” he snapped back. All the other Monsters stepped back as he stomped through towards Edge. His eye lights were snapping orange, his cheek bones hectically flushed the same shade. He was visibly livid.

He was gorgeous.

Edge waited patiently while Stretch stalked up to him, tamping down his sudden surge of arousal. That would have to wait. 

Stretch stopped in front of him, breathing hard, and snarled out, “where the fuck are all my clothes?” 

“Hello, love,” Edge said calmly. “Did you need something?”

“…don’t. don’t you even!” He scrambled to hold out a crumpled piece of paper…where had he even put that? It wasn’t worth considering. Edge took it and skimmed it. Not that he didn’t know what it said, his own neat handwriting on the page. 

“Hmm,” Edge considered, “It says here that you’ve lost all your clothing privileges until you can dress like an adult again.”

“i can read, you prick!” Stretch glared at him furiously. His magic was glowing in his joints, snapping at his fingertips, and Edge automatically braced himself. Not that Stretch would hurt him, not on purpose, but it paid to be cautious. “what the fuck are you trying to pull!”

“Perhaps I’m trying to make it so I don’t get stared down on the sidewalk when we’re in public together?” Edge asked archly and Stretch sputtered, seething. 

To be fair, Edge _had_ started it although he liked to think he’d been driven to it. It was all because of Stretch‘s fondness of atrocious t-shirts. If it had terrible word play or an advertisement for some absurd, horrible product that no one would ever want, then Stretch needed to own it. Generally, they were covered by his sweatshirt, but this past week had been unseasonably hot and Edge had been treated daily to an endless array of the wretched things. 

By the end of the week, he had simply been tired of seeing them and he’d asked Stretch, perhaps a little snarkier than necessary, if he’d signed some kind of contract that only allowed him to wear the ugliest t-shirts possible and if so, he should offer a refund.

He should have known better. Stretch seemed to take it as a personal challenge. Suddenly, he was wearing a different shirt every hour, each one more horrid than the last. When the weather cooled, he wore one of the damn things over his sweatshirt. He knotted them together to wear as a kilt instead of his normal track pants. The final straw had been when Edge had opened the curtain for his morning shower and found one hanging in the stall that had on it a picture of Stretch wearing yet another t-shirt with a picture of himself on it, and again, on to infinity. 

It was entirely possible he’d snapped at that point. 

“you emptied the entire closet!” Stretch screeched. He had. It had taken most of the night and it had been oh, so worth the effort. 

“And you wore one of our Egyptian cotton sheets on the bus,” Edge pointed out, idly, “At least stop dragging it on the ground.”

“you even took the socks! and shoes!” Somehow, his growing indignation only made him more appealing. “i was barefoot on the fucking bus, they almost didn’t let me on!”

“Interesting, I would have thought the sheet would have been more of a deterrent,” Edge mused. 

“i am not leaving without pants, i swear to fucking hell, edge, you—”

His ranting took a backseat to a sudden wolf whistle that rang over the office and it was that whistle that made Edge abruptly realize Stretch was gradually losing his tenuous grip on the sheet. It had already slid halfway down his spine at the back. Who the fuck…the smirk dropped off Edge's face like a falling stone and lacking any one person, he glared at the collection of people around them.

All of whom were watching with richly interested expressions as Stretch ranted and gestured with his free hand while the sheet steadily crept lower. 

“Don't you people have work to do?" Edge snapped, agitated. A low murmur of denials was all he got for his troubles. 

Oh, for…roughly, Edge stripped off his suit jacket and tried to sling it over Stretch’s shoulders, only to have it furiously shrugged away, “don’t, don’t you even—”

“Why don’t we discuss this in my office,” Edge said through gritted teeth. His amusement at the situation had faded the second it had gone from slapstick to burlesque.

Somehow, the sparkling orange in Stretch’s eye lights grew furiously brighter, “listen, asshole, i rode the bus in a fucking _sheet_ , you will get me pants and you will get them now! i am _trending on twitter_ , do you hear me? i have zero fucks left to give! i want pants if you have to peel them off fucking asgore!”

"I will give you _my_ pants if you will just come with me!” Edge snapped, a little desperately because that sheet was growing more precarious by the moment and he was not enjoying the array of eyes lingering on his increasingly naked husband in the slightest. 

To his surprise, Stretch stopped and gave him a thin smile, hitching his sheet up a couple of inches. “fine. hand them over.”

Edge blinked, replaying the words in his head, and realization hit. “I meant that I would give them to you in my office.”

Stretch’s smile was reminiscent of one of Red’s, sharp and spiteful, “hand. them. over.”

Well. This little prank had taken a particularly unpleasant turn. At this point, people were coming up from other floors to watch the commotion, so either they followed Stretch on twitter or people were sending texts, which they certainly could because every Monster there seemed to have their cell phone out, likely recording this for later enjoyment. Half of them were calmly sipping coffee, enjoying this unexpected mid-morning show. 

For all that strategy was usually Edge’s greatest strength, it was currently failing him. What he did know was that he wasn’t about to take his pants off because he didn’t wear anything beneath his damn pants, something that Stretch knew all too well. 

“I am not taking my pants off in this hallway,” Edge gritted out.

“well, i’m not wearing anything under this sheet, so make your choice,” Stretch hissed. He loosened his grip, letting it slide back down and the intrigued murmur that ran through the crowd was making fond thoughts of murder percolate in Edge’s skull. 

Edge sighed inwardly. He was going to be paying for this for a very long time, but options were limited, and he made his choice. 

Quickly, he caught up the end of the sheet and wrapped it around Stretch’s upper torso, pinning his arms before he could do more than yelp a protest. Then he ducked down enough to swing him over his shoulder and carried him briskly down the hall. It worked, but the effect that came from it was exactly as he expected.

“put me down!” Stretch howled, squirming against the dual constrictions of the sheet and Edge’s arm around his waist. “put me down, you asshole!”

Since he doubted at this point that he could make things worse, Edge gave Stretch a pointed slap on the pelvis, “Stop squirming, you’re going to make me drop you.”

It was the opposite of helpful as not only did his squirming increase, so did his volume. Edge winced at a particularly violent suggestion for his various orifices. That was certainly…creative.

If this ended up on Youtube he was going to rip out someone’s spine. Probably his own brother’s.

At the end of the hallway, Janice was holding open the door to his office helpfully and Edge muttered a thank you that she couldn’t have heard over Stretch’s angry curses. 

Not that her smirk really deserved one. 

He kicked the door shut behind him before lowering his squirming bundle to the floor and wincing as a spastic flail caught him across the face. A small price to pay to see Stretch emerging from his cotton prison, as puffed up and angry as a wet cat.

Before he could spit out a word, Edge had already skimmed off his trousers and tossed them into his face. “Pants. As requested.”

His indignation deflated a little with the demanded item in hand, fingering the fine material. Without an audience, his temper was cooling quickly. Stretch never had been able to stay angry for long. “i don’t even want your pants, i wanted my own,” Stretch muttered.

“Well, I didn’t bring them downtown,” Edge said archly. Stretch looked up at him, his eye lights flicking down his body, and Edge stood straight and let him. Yes, he likely looked a bit ridiculous without his trousers in a full suit that included his socks, but it was certainly better than looking like this in front of the entire office.

The anger had faded from Stretch’s eye lights, replaced by disbelief, “are you actually turned on?”

“Yes,” Edge admitted. It wasn’t as if he could deny it without his pants acting as a barrier. Between Stretch’s glorious temper tantrum and his delightful squirming, Edge didn’t have much motive to resist.

“pervert.” But the gleam in Stretch’s eye lights told him he didn’t mind. 

Smirking, Edge reached behind him and flicked the lock on the door. They may as well indulge in the very thing that the entire Embassy was likely gossiping they were doing. The pants were tossed aside as Edge pushed Stretch to the ground, and put his foul mouth to better use.

Later, they were both tangled in the sheet when Edge picked up his phone, scrolling through the variety of messages. One from Red caught his attention and he read it silently. 

_there's bets going on. odds are 2 to 1 that you’re having sex. fifty to one that stretch outright murders you. what are we looking at paying out on?_

Edge considered, then typed back, _How much if I murdered him?_

_please. no bet, no one is stupid enough to lose money on you laying a rough finger on him, much less hurting him_

Irrationally pleased, Edge sent back, _pay out 2 to 1_ , and settled back against the sofa arm, resting his cheekbone against the top of Stretch’s skull. He had meetings in less than an hour, a stack of paperwork to finish, and a secretary who surely knew what was going on behind his closed door. 

Eventually, he’d work up the energy to care.

Next to him, Stretch stirred. “whatever you're planning to do to that kid who whistled at me, you can stop right there.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“yeah, right,” Stretch yawned. He sat up, groaning. “don't even try that innocent act, pal, i know you.”

Edge only hummed, trailing his fingers down the spine that had come so close to being on display for most of the Monster contingency in the Embassy. It was not a view he was particularly interested in sharing, for any reason. 

Stretch sighed, leaning briefly against the pressure of his hand and then drew away, “not that this wasn’t fun, but i still don’t have any clothes.”

Reluctantly, Edge let him go. “There’s a gym bag in the closet over there, you’re welcome to whatever is in it.”

“that’ll work,” Stretch said and leaned down to peck him sweetly on the cheek bone. 

Laying on the sofa, Edge watched in appreciative silence as Stretch dug through the bag and found sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt, all that smooth, sleek bone disappearing beneath cotton fabric. Distracted as he was, he didn’t notice until Stretch was finished shoving his feet into a pair of tennis shoes that his mouth was curved in a malicious smirk.

Neatly, Stretch plucked up Edge’s trousers from the floor and he could only watch in horror as Stretch called cheerily over his shoulder as he walked out the door, “see you at home!” 

“Wait!” 

He may as well have saved his breath. 

For a long moment, Edge sat beneath the sheet and considered his options. There were plenty of people in the Embassy who would bring him a pair of pants. There wasn’t a single one who wouldn’t make him pay for it. 

Edge tipped his head back and laughed helplessly, harder than he had in his entire life, until he was breathless, his chest aching. Then he picked up his phone to scroll through his contacts, weighing the pros and cons of who he was going to beg for help. 

 

-finis


End file.
